Some of the guests were shaking so hard they needed a straw to sip their liquor. A couple were showing photos and videos they’d managed to take as they fled the scene. They gave Petie a round of applause.
Petie said the right things, but she was still livid about Copeland’s careless disregard for life: hers, the bear’s and his own. “Where’s Miss Lee? Where’s Copeland?”
“Miss Lee had her driver drop her off at her cabin,” Hawley said.
“Copeland stepped out of the jeep, still sloshing, ripped off his waders—” Arjun pointed at the puddle of water on the walk “—and stormed upstairs. No one’s seen him. I don’t know how that cretin’s going to face any of us ever again.”
Heads nodded.
From the open front door of the lodge, Copeland declared, “I don’t have to face you. I’m through with this uncivilized place and you ignorant incompetents. I’m leaving.” He had changed his clothes, but his face glistened with the remains of flop sweat. He pointed at Hawley. “You fire that woman.” His finger swung on Petie. “She’s insolent. She’s incompetent. She made me lose my fish!”
“She saved your life,” Arjun said.
“I was never in any danger!” In his few minutes alone, Copeland had convinced himself his humiliation was someone else’s fault, and that someone was Petie.
“Since you’re leaving, you’ll want to pay up your debts,” Hawley drawled.
Copeland drew himself up. “What debts? I have no debts!”
“You bet everyone here you’d catch a twenty-five pound salmon.” Chuntao, one of Jeen Lee’s employees, had clearly studied her boss’s demeanor, for she sounded serene even as she threw gasoline on the fire of Copeland’s humiliation.
“I don’t know you. I no longer work with you. I’ll never see you again. I am moving back to the United States where civilization reigns!”
Chuntao had to put her hand over her mouth to cover her smile. “Sir, last I heard, Alaska is part of the United States.”
“You think you’re so smart.” Copeland pointed a shaking finger at her, then pointed at Hawley again. “Get someone to drive me to the airport now.”
Arjun condemned him with a single quietly spoken word, “Welsher.”
When Hawley wished, he could appear to be moving in slow motion. In the face of Copeland’s demands, he was positively snaillike, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on Copeland’s face.
As Copeland saw the big man pacing toward him, he seemed for the first time to recognize his size, strength and wiliness.
Copeland took a hasty step backward.
Too late. Hawley wrapped an arm around the young man’s shoulders, hauled him close and escorted him across the porch and down the steps. “I’ll take you myself,” he rumbled. And, “You’re still pretty damp. I hope you don’t ruin my suit. It’s new, an Armani.”
Copeland cast desperate glances behind him, but Hawley thrust him into the front seat of the Land Rover and, dropping the pretense of leisure, hustled around to the driver’s side. As he climbed in, he bellowed, “Petie, make sure our guests are happy!” The Land Rover roared away, hitting every pothole in the road.
Arjun said, “With Copeland gone, we’re all happy.”
Laughter rose, then fell to silence.
Miss Lee strode toward the lodge. Like Copeland, she had changed into dry clothes, but unlike Copeland, she’d taken the time to fix her hair and reapply makeup, or perhaps her staff had done it for her. She stopped at the foot of the porch steps and in her low-pitched voice, she said, “My friends, I’m sorry, but I must remove Petie from among your midst. She and I need to speak about a matter of some importance.”
All heads turned toward Petie, whose feet were glued to the boards.
All heads turned to Miss Lee again. “We will be absent for some time, possibly days. I wish that in our absence, you enjoy your stay at Midnight Sun Fishing Camp to the fullest, and if we are still not among you when the time comes to leave, travel safely and I’ll see you on my return to the Quemada office.”
Someone gave Petie’s shoulder a shove.
She staggered forward, then continued through the crowd and down the stairs. “Miska, handle things,” she said.
As she set foot on the gravel walk, she heard a voice whisper, “Poor girl.”
They were talking about her.
She wasn’t worried, though. Miss Lee had had contact with her son, and even if the meeting hadn’t gone well, she was a fair woman. She wouldn’t blame Petie.
Would she?
7
PETIE AND JEEN LEE walked shoulder to shoulder toward Miss Lee’s cabin. They mounted the steps. Miss Lee opened the door and gestured Petie ahead of her.
Petie would have been a liar if she’d said the middle of her back did not twitch with fear.
Miss Lee followed her in and shut the door, walked to the wet bar and brought a bottle of reddish liquor out of the refrigerator. “Drink with me.”
“In celebration of your successful meeting with your son?”
“It was a successful meeting. And a sorrowful meeting. A meeting that set my heart at ease. And a meeting that scarred like lightning that strikes a mighty oak. I’m not dead from that lightning, but I will wither, if not this year, then the next, or the next.” She poured two small glasses full and offered one to Petie.
Petie took the glass.
“To my son.” Miss Lee raised her glass.
Petie clinked it and took a sip. It tasted of fruit and cinnamon—and its potency took her breath away. “What is it?” she croaked.
Miss Lee sipped also, and smiled. “It is patxaran, from Navarre. It’s our preferred drink in Quemada. I bought a brand with a light aroma, hoping it would not be too challenging for you.”
Great. She’s going to kill me subtly, with liquor. “It’s most refreshing.”
“Let us sit at the back of my cabin where we can speak and not be observed.” Miss Lee picked up the bottle and directed Petie out the sliding glass door and into her own private backyard and screened gazebo. They seated themselves side by side in the comfortably padded wicker chairs overlooking the river, surrounded by the forest and the mountains. Miss Lee snapped her fingers—no small feat with the length of her nails—and her two attendants rushed out from beside the cabin, one carrying a stacked bamboo steamer, the other carrying small plates, napkins, serving ware and sauces.
As they laid the food out on the small round table, Petie stammered, “Where did they...? How did they get the...?”